


Where I Belong

by allison_rhianne_kent88



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Violence, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, and he can't say no to a fight, because it's steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allison_rhianne_kent88/pseuds/allison_rhianne_kent88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So much time had passed with Steve clutching the front of Bucky’s shirt into a tight fist while pressing his face into Bucky where shoulder turns into collar-bone that the brunet assumed his comment would go unanswered, but after more deep breathing Steve quietly replied, “But you are. You’ve saved me and changed my life. And being with you feels like home to me, like I belong.”"</p>
<p>Snippets of Bucky and Steve moments.</p>
<p>Song that inspired this was "Feels Like Home" by Chantal Kreviazuk</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where I Belong

“Hey… Hey! Yeah you, greaseball. I’m talkin’ to you!” Steve shouted around the corner at the retreating kid. “Don’t you walk away from me. You ain’t got the cojones to fight about it?”

The staccato retreating footsteps came to an abrupt halt. With a shuffled turning noise, the tapping returned with force, shoe soles smacking the ground. The rubber slapping concrete became a warpath drumbeat for the boy who reappeared from around the corner.

“Whatcha say to me?” He demanded, stepping up to tower over Steve.

“I said you ain’t got the cojones to fight about it.” Steve jerked his chin up to lock eyes with the bigger kid. “Greaseball.” He added.

The boy shoved out his hands to push Steve backward at the shoulders. “You better watch your mouth, little Irish crumb. I don’t like what you’re saying, I don’t like it at all. In fact, I reckon I’ll make it hard for you to talk like that.” With a shrug and a punch, the tiny blond kid was staggering back and clutching his jaw with a fierce look on his face. He struck his arms out, pushing at the chest of the older boy, the element of surprise lending him a brief moment of power. Righting himself from the slight stumble, the boy grabbed Steve’s hair and wrenched him off to the side, bringing his other fist around to connect again with that pale little face.

Steve spat blood. “That all you’ve got?” he slurred through his rapidly swelling mouth. Looking up, he saw another boy coming around the corner, this one maybe just older than Steve. Their eyes met and Steve didn’t see pity, just sudden determination.

“Why I oughta—” the bully started and then was suddenly on the ground. The newcomer stood with his foot poised over the kid’s nose, making as if to break it.

“Pick on someone your own size. Scram!” The boy ordered, moving to stand by Steve as the bigger kid clambered to his feet and made an attempt to preserve some dignity as he jogged off.

Steve’s savior turned and stuck out his hand with an impish grin. “James Buchanan Barnes.” He stated with lazy charm. “But only Ma calls me that. Call me Bucky.”

Steve met Bucky’s eyes and noticed how very much they looked like the public swimming pool, clear and blue-grey. He grasped his new friend’s hand and shook it heartily with a gruff, “Name’s Steve Rogers.”

“Sheesh, your jaw looks pretty busted. Good thing I came when I did, eh?” Bucky laughed good-naturedly. He stretched out his hands to hover just over the newly swelling cheeks and grasped Steve’s face at the temples to turn it side to side for a better view of his jaw. Steve, tired now, wanted to lean into that gentle touch and rest his weight in Bucky’s arms for just a moment. But that would be weak, so he put on a brave attitude and gave a gentle shrug. “I coulda finished it. You didn’t need to help.”

Bucky looked like he was about to say something but paused with his mouth just barely open. Changing to a soft smile, he just said, “Yeah…” A second or two passed. “Yeah.” He repeated more strongly, removing his hands from Steve’s face. And in that voice Steve’s heart beat a little faster with pride that for once someone would listen and allow him to say that he was just fine. Usually people either didn’t listen at all and didn’t care, or they cared too much, like his Ma, telling him to stop getting in fights. He hoped Bucky would stick around.

“So whatdya fight about?” Bucky asked. “He call you a name or somethin’?”

“Nah,” Steve explained, “He told Nettie Bodkin she’d be a “professional skirt” since her Daddy ain’t got a job and her Ma’s got too many filthy Irish kids to feed.”

“How old are you, kid? Talkin’ ‘bout dames for hire and fightin’ in the streets, chrissake.”

“Eleven. What about you?”

“You’re eleven? Sorry, kid, but you look ‘bout eight or nine. I’m twelve by the way. In the sixth grade.” He added this last part with pride. Steve’s spirits sunk, he didn’t want Bucky thinking he was just some little kid. “Hey you’re alright, though. You wanna come see if there’s a baseball game over on 21st? You don’t have to play if your jaw’s like that, just come watch.

And taking that excuse not to participate, Steve followed Bucky.

*********************************************************************************************

“She was all I had.” Steve sobbed, nose red and cheeks sticky with salty tears. He leaned his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder and continued to take gasping wet breaths. Bucky traced circles between his friend’s shoulder blades with his open palm.

“God, Buck, do you even know how lonely my life has been? How everyone thought I was gonna die, but she kept saying I’d be just fine.” He sniffed and let out another sob. “And now she’s gone and I just feel so alone.”

“Shhh… You’re not alone, Stevie. I’m here. And we’re gonna be just fine. And Miss Sarah’s in heaven, so she’s gonna be just fine too.” Bucky murmured soothingly.

“You’re so good to me, Buck. What did I do to deserve you?” Steve blubberingly asked. “Christ I prayed for someone like you to come along, and here you are.”

“Just being a good friend, Steve. Don’t be praising God for me yet. I ain’t no angel.” Bucky chuckled.

Steve’s sobbing slowly faded and he wheezed out heavy deep breaths until he calmed his breathing into its normal labored pattern. So much time had passed with Steve clutching the front of Bucky’s shirt into a tight fist while pressing his face into Bucky where shoulder turns into collar-bone that the brunet assumed his comment would go unanswered, but after more deep breathing Steve quietly replied, “But you are. You’ve saved me and changed my life. And being with you feels like home to me, like I belong.”

Bucky sat up straight, careful to steady Steve who had still been slumped against him. “Let’s make it home for you then.”

“What?” Steve sniffed and looked up confusedly to catch Bucky’s eyes.

“You said you feel like you’re home and that you belong, so move in with me. Rent’s too high anyhow.” Bucky explained.

The blond pondered with a skeptical expression. Finally he nodded. “If you’ll have me,” he paused for Bucky to opt out if that’s what he wanted, “I’ll move in.”

The older young man beamed and in a moment of happiness and overwhelming emotion, scooped Steve into a firm hug and held him there. Steve’s stiffness eventually gave way and he melted into Bucky’s arms like he had wanted to that very first day his best friend had helped him in a fight.

****************************************************************************

Steve could not sleep. In the apartment below theirs a couple was loudly fighting about money, the old broad next door had radio static playing on high, and a baby was bawling across the hall. One never would have known that it was –Steve checked the clock in the opposite corner of the room—one o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. Through the window’s thin pane Steve heard glass shattering like a window breaking down the street in the dark night. Having been a Brooklyn boy all his life, Steve Rogers prided himself in his ability to sleep through just about anything, but tonight for some reason his body and mind just weren’t having it. He rolled onto his back and stared up toward the dark ceiling and sighed.

“Trouble sleeping?” Steve heard from the other bed, turning himself over to look toward where he could just make Bucky's shape out in the darkness.

“Yeah.” He replied, clearing his throat. “Guess it’s too loud or somethin’, never bothered me much before though.”

Steve heard blankets rustling and then noticed the space in front of him get darker and Bucky walked closer. “Budge over.” He grunted, beginning to crawl into Steve’s tiny bed with him. To keep from toppling over the side of the bed, Bucky stretched out on his side and rolled Steve into a similar position, pulling the knobby spine flush to his much broader chest and wrapping an arm around Steve’s delicate torso. As the finishing touch to this arrangement, Bucky tucked Steve’s blond head under his stubbly chin. After a brief companionable silence, Bucky spoke up. “It’s easier to sleep if you’re warmer, I says.” He justified himself. Steve abandoned all pride and grunted in affirmation while snuggling himself closer into Bucky’s embrace. A siren wailed down the road, but now it didn’t bother Steve so much; it felt good to have Bucky there with him like his north star in the night.

****************************************************************************************

“No, you wash the dishes!” Steve crowed back, laughing as they jokingly argued.

“No dice, I washed last night. Plus, I bring in all the green to buy this food, you’re like my darlin’ housewife.” Bucky teased.

Steve suppressed his blush by continuing their mock argument, “But I cooked! Can’t expect a man to do the cookin’ and the cleanin’, can ya? Just ain’t right.”

Bucky let out a howl of laughter, “Punk. I oughta knock some sense into you!” he cackled and pounced at Steve, knocking over both his own chair and Steve’s, bringing them down to the kitchen floor. As always, he was careful even when roughhousing not to let Steve get hurt or winded. Bucky was now hovering over his roommate, knees bracketing in slender thighs and hands braced on the kitchen floor on either side of Steve’s head. They were both still laughing like hyenas.

“Geddoff me!” Steve pretended to be gruff through his giggles, pushing his hands at Bucky’s chest. Bucky clasped one of Steve’s hands in each of his own, lacing his fingers into Steve’s. Steve hooted with laughter and wiggled their conjoined hands around in the pretense of struggle.

“I gotcha!” Bucky declared, grinning down at his best friend.

“Nah, I have you on the ropes.” Steve smirked back. They giggled more at that until the laughter naturally slowed to a stop and they were just looking at each other, hands intertwined and almost chest to chest.

Realizing their positioning, a red tint started to crawl up the smaller man’s neck, but Bucky’s face was assembling into a pensive and determined expression. He leant down, fingers still threaded in Steve’s. He paused. Steve felt Bucky’s warm breath as the brunet asked in a whisper, “I know this ain’t right or natural or what have you, but, see, I wanna kiss you. Wouldya let me?”

“Buck,” Steve wet his lips then replied in a whisper, “Do you even know how much this moment means to me? Yes, I’ll let you. Chrissake, I’ll beg.”

Bucky smiled and closed the gap between their lips. Steve’s heart swooped as his eyes fell closed. It was over all too soon when Bucky slowly leant back up with a contented sigh. “You don’t even know how long I’ve waited to be able to do that. See, I love roughin’ around with you and can’t hardly sleep if I ain’t wrapped around you, but I’ve never been able to touch you the way I’ve wanted to.”

“I’ve wanted this too. It ain’t proper, but it feels right. You just… you make me so happy.”

“You know, I’ve thought dames were real pretty and all,” Steve flinched at Bucky’s words. He relaxed when the brunet continued, “But I never even so much as thought I’d love anyone this much.”

“You feel like home, Buck.”

“Home. I like that. Place where we belong.” Bucky paused and then busted out chuckling. “You’ve turned me into some sort of a sentimentalist, haven’t you? Sittin’ on the kitchen floor discussing how goddamn head over heels we are.”

Steve smirked, “You love it.”

“Yeah. I do, punk.” He paused, anticipating Steve’s next comment. “But not enough to wash the dishes tonight.”

“Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate comments on my sub-par fic! Plz.


End file.
